whisper then bang
by readingrainbows
Summary: Beck and Jade and the things they are not angry about. And he wants to say: You're it, it's you. It's always been you.


_Because it pisses me off that Beck basically has no emotions._

_And:_

_This is really supposed to be for Anysa, who asked me for a Beck/Jade married fic five million years ago. This is not a marriage fic, and it's not even happy or fluffy the way you wanted, but I suck and I'm sorry._

_Also, I have an ulterior motive for writing this._

_More at the bottom._

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><p>It's two-fifteen in the morning and Jade is dressed and standing over him, hands fisted on her hips, eyebrows drawn together, demanding he get up.<p>

Beck isn't angry.

He isn't angry that Jade is doing this in the RV, where they've had such great memories in the past, tainting it the way she has the habit and appetite for tainting everything. He isn't angry that he isn't even wearing a shirt, that his tongue feels sandpapery and disgusting, that his eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness, and yet here she stands, tearing the floor out from under him. He isn't angry at the way Jade looks, vulnerable and sad and beautiful, so like the girl she was when they first met, it makes him want to punch the wall in. And most importantly, Beck isn't angry at the words she's saying, the way she's trying to keep them tough and failing, at the caustic quality of the letters, the starts and stops like she's forcing them up out of her heart, through her mouth—the finality of them.

If he stares at her for long enough—dark hair and even darker eyes set against the snowy white canvas of her face, lips curved downwards and pink, pretty despite what she thinks, long neck, slender build, torn black tights under lace-up combat boots and metal glinting off her face in shimmers and sparkles—he thinks he can almost understand the picture she's trying to paint for him.

"I bet you can't even remember the last time I made you happy." She whispers, eyes soft and head tilted. "Maybe we're just keeping this thing going because it's all we know."

Beck wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her and shake her until all the blindness she has falls out from beneath her rattling body. What does she think this is, a choice? That he can just _decide_ to love her or not to love her, to think about her or not to think about her, just turn it off and on like a fucking light switch? Out of everything about her, this is what he's hated the most—the expectations she has for him, like he's really supposed to be as calm and cool and collected as he makes himself seem to everyone else.

But not to Jade. Jade has seen every nook and cranny of him, all his vulnerabilities and insecurities and daddy issues spread out in front of her. She was the only one, and now she does this to him.

But Beck is not angry.

This is what he wants to say: _This is what you want, really? Theatrics in this RV, as if we don't get enough of that in class?_ He wants to say: _I'm not going to forgive you for this—not this time, not again. How many times do you expect me to build a bridge over all your crazy and get over it?_ He wants to say: _You're so much trouble to put up with and I can do better and everyone knows it, you and I aren't good for each other and I'm glad this is happening_. He wants to say: _I love you, and since when has that not been enough? It used to be enough, last week it was enough, and we were happy—we _are_ happy. I love you and you mean everything to me, Jade, babe—this isn't just another one of those high school stories about sweethearts and prom nights and what could have been-s. _He wants to say:_ You're it, it's you. It's always been you._

He says: "Okay."

If Beck is completely honest with himself, he'd always thought he was going to marry her someday.

It's not like some weird girlish fantasy or anything. It's just that every once in a while, when people asked him where he saw himself in ten years, not only did he imagine himself acting out various roles in indie plays and understated feel-good movie dramas, he was also a husband. To Jade, there had never been anyone else. Vaguely he wonders if she knows that, if maybe that is part of the problem—this issue they've always had with communication. Because Beck knows that the saying is "opposites attract," but he thinks the more intelligent adage would be "birds of a feather." Because in the end, he and Jade are, above all else, _alike_—two of a kind really and if he thinks about dating Cat or Tori or, _oh my god_, Trina for more than a few minutes his head literally starts throbbing imagining all the squeaky voices and guilt trips he'd have the deal with.

But that's not really the point here, is it? This was enough for her once, so why can't it be again? He wants to remind her that he is Beck and she is Jade—one syllable each like love or heart or soul.

Instead he closes his eyes and pretends he can't hear her gathering her things.

_What are you doing? Say something that will make her stay!_ He thinks to himself, but then he ignores it and slumps his shoulders further, rests his head in his hands and waits for her to make the next move. He thinks maybe, through the years he's lived recently, the thing he's gotten best at is ignoring his thoughts—the good ones, the ones that would probably make his life, and hers, that much easier. He ignores the thoughts that tell him to defend her, and the thoughts that tell him to show her he cares more often. He ignores the thoughts that remind him she isn't going to be here forever and the thoughts that beg him to please, please make this work, because she is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

But it's not like that makes Beck a bad person or anything, it's just not their thing. Jade and Beck, they're not _nice_ to each other; that's just not the way things are done in this relationship. Instead, he tortures her, but then again, she tortures him. It's this game they've been playing since they've met—they're playing it now, even.

For example, the subdued light from the one lit lamp sitting on his bedside table makes her skin glow almost, it's this really striking ethereal glow and it makes his heart race and pulse quicken and even as she grabs more of her things and rolls them up in her hands avoiding eye contact with him, her hair tumbles over her shoulders like liquid black silk and he thinks that maybe this is the most beautiful she's ever looked to him.

He's not going to tell her that though.

He wonders who broke whose heart first.

Things Beck is not angry about:

The leaky pipe in the bathroom that makes it seem like he's stepping in the Atlantic Ocean every time he needs to take a goddamn piss

Jade is not crying.

That C minus he got on his Musical Theatre final last week—singing isn't his thing, _okay_.

How much his mom and dad don't like each other

Jade not crying

Jade breaking up with him

Jade moving on

Jade thinking he will move on

Jade grabbing all her things and shoving them into her school bag

Jade not crying—why is she not crying? Is she _over_ it already? She can't be.

Beck.

Beck accepting the breakup

Beck not fighting for her

Beck never fighting for her to begin with

Beck not moving from his spot on the bed, not stopping her, not holding her to his chest until she stops kicking and screaming, not pressing his hands to her face and looking into those deep blue eyes and not telling her she is all there is—all there ever is.

Jade not crying

Beck doesn't know how to handle this; it's honestly a little too much for him right now (_or ever_). So he looks at it the same way he looks at everything when life becomes a bit too overwhelming—like a scene from a movie. He can see it now, the girl and the boy, both from the wrong side of the tracks, together for so long only to realize they are the poisoned knives slowly sinking into each other. His character is sitting hopeless on the bed, he of course, is the good guy and he is so torn up about this he can barely will himself to keep breathing. She is upset, but she is also angry—Jade is always angry—and she stands before him in all her cruel beauty, arms crossed, bag secured above her shoulder, ready to leave him and their legacy forever.

This is the right time to say something—to say anything that will make her stay and make her realize she is wrong about them. A million thoughts run through Beck's head, as long and as endless as her legs in those mesh tights, and he wonders which one of them she will listen to, which one of them will make her stop and remember that they are as close to soul mates as anyone is ever going to get.

Beck wants to be the one to salvage this relationship, he wants to be the one to show Jade that they belong together, but he also wants to be the one who has the last word in case she doesn't listen to his plea and walks out his door anyway.

In his head, Beck quickly calculates his chances—he could either say what he feels—tell her how much he loves her, how endlessly and desperately he loves her, how he will be better from now on, that yes, she is all he knows, but she is all he _wants_ to know—and she may respond, she may throw that over stuffed bag to the floor and wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him and forgive him and be his other half again. Or, more likely, she will be Jade and she will ignore it, say something sort of mean, sort of ironic, tell him it was fun while it lasted and then viciously ask him to wait at least two weeks before asking Vega out, you know, to keep it classy.

It's maybe this that Jade and Beck have the most in common anyways—this sickening urge to one up each other—whether it's over text message fighting or during sex or even now, when the only important thing should be trying to get each other back.

"I really loved you, you know."

Beck says in a low, dishonest voice.

It is that one add on, the "-ed" at the end of that unnecessarily cruel sentence that makes all the difference. It's those two seemingly inconsequential letters that turn a last comment into an, ugly biting remark aimed to cause pain—that really shows you what kind of man Beck is. Because the truth is, Beck has never and probably will never love anyone as much as he loves Jade West, but he's not willing to be the one hurt most in this equation.

But she doesn't seem to be too perturbed by his comment. Her eyes are half-lidded, and unobscured as they are by her regular gallons of eyeliner and mascara, they look almost as harmless and as human as anyone else's. Beck doesn't know much, but he knows that he never expected this. As cold as Jade was, everyone knew she held the real passion, he was prepared for screeching and punching and death threats because that made sense—he was the block of ice to her open fire, and it's only expected that she would get angry, throw things, tear his RV to pieces and leave with a smirk on her face and a scar on his heart. And even that would be preferable to this—this cool aloofness so similar to his own, it scares the shit out of him.

"I really loved you, too."

She breathes back, her lips pursed together in a slight "o" shape after speaking the last words. And hearing them now, even though he knows she only says it because of this _disgusting_ game they keep playing, Beck is unsure whether to pat himself on the back or hang himself from the roof at how horrible they sound, how heart breaking and soul shattering. "Loved", like once, but not anymore, like already past-tense, like that was then and this is now, like you never meant much to me, anyways.

As she makes her way to his door, stomping her combat boots and swishing her sweater, Beck can tell you he never expected this from her, this calm easy grace, exiting his life as quickly as she came into it—a whisper rather than a bang.

"Oh, and be a dear and give it a couple of minutes before you decide to bone Vega, would you? Let's try and keep it classy."

Now that, Beck expected.

"I never wanted Tori."

Beck says, not even knowing why he's saying it now, it's not like it would make her stay, no matter how true it was. But still, she twists on her heel and faces him again with narrowed eyes, and although she has her arms crossed across her chest and he can tell she still has her guard up, Beck counts it a victory that she's still in his life for, at least, a few second longer.

"I know you always thought I did," He says in a rush, because maybe just maybe this could save everything, "And I know we never officially discussed it because it always led to a fight, but it's never even been a thought that entered my head. I never wanted Tori."

_It's always been just you_ sits on the very tip of his tongue, but like he mentioned before, he and Jade would play this game until the end of time, and he wasn't going to give up a confession so raw and openhearted unless she made some move to indicate she would stay.

Jade's eyes soften considerably, and she looks, for a second, like those words are enough. And Beck, because in the past such simple words have been enough, is automatically grateful, he even finally stands so he can pull her away from the door and sweep her into his arms and warn her never to scare him like that again.

"And that, Beck," Jade whispers in a hollow voice, eyes downcast and body turned once again to that _fucking_ door, "Is what we call too little, too late."

Then she kicks it open, stomps out and bangs it closed again, the sound echoing off the heavy walls of his RV and driving directly into his skull.

It takes him a second to put together what just happened, and even then, he remains in a daze:

Beck realizes he has never been the good guy.

It's probably what everyone expects from him, and maybe it's even what he expects from himself, but he is not the good guy. The good guys do not just sit there while the person who has made their lives worth living escapes from between their fingers. Good guys do not chicken out and say the thing that will wind up hurting them less, hurting her more, and perhaps most significant of all, good guys never lose their girl because they deserve it. Yes, the good guy will lose her because some cocky asshole is keeping them apart, or because she doesn't want to get into a relationship with him because she knows that at the end of the story, she will break his heart—that is how good guys lose their girls, with sweat and tears and famous last words and because they are the good guys, and they need to suffer a little before they truly get everything they want. But the good guy is never supposed to lose his leading lady because in the end, he doesn't deserve to be in her life.

He curls up on her side of the bed, looping an arm around her pillow like it's the dip of her waist and pressing his nose against it. He breathes in lilac and jasmine and Jade, sweltering summers splayed across this bed, and winter nights twined together under its covers, warming frozen chocolate chip waffles in his second-hand toaster for lunch—always making sure one side is slightly crisper than the other and wiping maple syrup from the side of her face with his tongue. He breathes in Mondays and Tuesdays and Thursdays and every other day she was here, in this spot, on this bed, in this RV mocking him or punching him or spread across his chest, loving him.

_Jade,_ he thinks with an ache in his throat and in his chest and in his head, like maybe somehow his whole entire body knows what has just been lost—_Jade-Jade-Jade_—like a mantra, like a prayer.

But Beck is not angry.

It is not anger that propels him up off the bed, that makes him tear his mattress off and spill pillows and blankets all around him. It is not anger that compels him to roar, to grab everything within reach—the posters, the toaster, the textbooks stacked hap-hazardously on his night table, and that lamp that just seconds ago lit her up like a fairy—and tear them apart, throw them to the floor in a series of smashes and crashes. Beck is not angry, he's not, and if he is, it certainly isn't because Jade West has taken the last three years of his life, crumpled them up in front of him and tossed them in the trash, it is not because she doesn't need him the way he needs her.

Beck is not angry because Beck Oliver is never angry. Beck Oliver is cool and aloof and easy going, he is laidback and he _doesn't care_, so get the fuck off his case.

When he throws a bowl against the wall and it shatters at his feet, Beck calms down enough to run frustrated hands through his hair and look around him. The entire RV is in shambles, and that might make a lesser man mad, but he is Beck, so he is okay.

He collapses on the floor, leaning his entire weight against the bedpost, breathing heavily. He closes his eyes and holds his head in-between his hands and for a second, Beck can imagine Jade slipping through the bathroom door in just a thin night shirt, can see her take everything in with a low whistle, a gracefully arched eyebrow, can see her cock her hand on that adorable hip of hers and ask him _what the hell just happened in here?—this place hasn't looked this screwed up since that time we tried to christen the tv stand. And oh my god, get off the floor, Beck, dramatic much? _

But then she'd sidle in closer, sit herself down next to him and rest her forehead against his arm. _You're such a mess,_ she'd whisper into his skin, in that quiet voice she always uses when they were alone together. She'd snuggle in closer and open his arms and press her face into that spot on his chest she has secretly called her own for two-and-a-half-years now. _But I'll take care of you_, she'd murmur, pressing her lips here then there. _I will, I will._

Beck doesn't know a lot—he doesn't understand the necessity of Musical Theatre Class and he will probably never fully grasp any of Sikowitz's quirks, he doesn't get the point of Cherry Coke or the Dingo Channel or stock markets or global warming. But this is what Beck knows:

He has just lost Jade West.

And that does not make him angry.

It breaks his heart.

* * *

><p><em>Stupid ending, I know—shut up, this entire this was written in like three hours.<em>

_I haven't written fanfiction in forever, but in case you guys haven't heard, Jade and Beck and breaking up. Which, you know, fucking sucks._

_So this is for Bade Week, which loosely translated is me telling you to either make a twitter, or get on twitter and help us trend #Beck and Jade Forever this Saturday at around 5 pm EST, and if it doesn't work then, we're supposed to try again after the episode._

_Probably won't write again for a while, unless, of course, they have a really awesome make up scene._

_Cheers._


End file.
